


Captive

by Bearslayer



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Fingering, More self indulgent nonsense from ya boy Witty, two desperately stupid and intelligent women desperately wanting each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25372549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bearslayer/pseuds/Bearslayer
Summary: Taking place during 2x05, between the kitchen of Eve's house and the car ride to the Forest of Dean. A surprising encounter, and a long talk.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 18
Kudos: 209





	Captive

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! 
> 
> So there were those screencaps (here, for the uninitiated; https://killingevephotography.tumblr.com/post/623559320334909440/i-cant-believe-that-we-as-a-society-were )
> 
> And there were discussions had. 
> 
> And I had to write this.
> 
> Enjoy, and if you like it feel free to comment. :D

“I'm expensive.”

“I know.”

“Will you give me everything I want?”

“Yes.”

The confirmation was whispered, breathy and without hesitation. Villanelle's eyes flicked to her lips as she rested the tip of the knife on Eve's belly, precisely where she had given Villanelle a still-healing scar on her own. She considered carving into Eve then and there, sliding the knife into her hard and deep, the way she had done to her. The feeling of skin and muscle giving way to her at a moment when Eve was most vulnerable was almost erotic, some bizarre testament to her love for her. She wouldn't kill her; she couldn't. Just a mark, like the one that had been gifted to her, a powerful sigil bored into her gut imbued with all of the emotion that Eve couldn't express adequately with words.

“Are you sure? Everything?”

“ _Yes_.”

Eve was firm and unafraid in her acceptance, even as Villanelle applied gentle pressure with the knife. She was so sure of herself, so sure that Villanelle would not, **could** not slice into her. Eve's breathing was heavy, her back arched over the counter to be able to look into Villanelle's eyes. She stared into them, unflinching, unblinking, transfixed even as Villanelle pushed a little harder. Not enough to penetrate – just enough to make her extremely aware of it. She hoped the significance was not lost on her. Villanelle's heart pounded so hard in her chest she could feel it in her throat and hear it in her ears. She was in control. She had to stay that way, but nothing had ever felt so intense. Eve was weak in her grasp, steadying herself with one hand on the counter and the other holding her elbow, their bodies flush against one another.

“And if I only want one thing?”

“Then take it.”

The knife clattered to the floor, Eve's words sending a decisive jolt of molten desire pulsing through every nerve in her body. She could barely control herself, grinning to hide how unsettled she was inside. She could barely breathe, the hand once holding the knife raising to Eve's lips, thumb stroking over a mark she saw there. She had worn the lipstick, hadn't she? Just like she had worn the dress, and the perfume – Eve would take anything that Villanelle decided to give, the realization settling in her center. She could feel herself throbbing, skin tingling as she rested her forehead to hers, her nose to hers, her lips –

“Take it.”

The words whispered against her lips propelled Villanelle into heights as yet unseen. She felt high, drunk, out of body as she pressed a kiss meant to be chaste to Eve's lips. Meant to be chaste, but deepened instantly by the other, fingers going to the back of her neck to yank her in harder. She was no longer anchored by anything except Villanelle's body against hers, trusting her, _wanting_ her to lead, _wanting_ her to take what she wanted. Eve gasped as she did just that, hands moving to her trousers and unbuttoning them, gathering the fabric into her hands to shove them down. She didn't waste time, desperate to feel her part beneath her, to feel her inside in one way or another.

“Please, Villanelle. Take what you want.”

Her words were maddening, whimpered into Villanelle's lips. She had been called crazy enough times that it was easy to ignore, but at that moment she truly felt like her mind would break. It was like she was hallucinating this, that even the sight of Eve was some fever dream brought on by infection from her wound. That didn't matter, though. Far be it from her to deny herself such a beautiful dream. If she was still dying in a hospital somewhere, and this was her mind conjuring up things in its chemical-rich death throes, then she would go willingly. She slid her hand between them, into her panties, fingers cupping Eve's mound. She was swollen with lust, and her fingers were instantly soaked with her fluids.

“Looks like you want this too.”

“Shut up.”

The gentle admonishment centered Villanelle, anchored her in the moment. She grinned as she gently parted Eve's folds and slid two fingers into her with no preamble. She gave a heavy sigh at the feeling, and at the soft, high moan that Eve granted her. It was such a beautiful noise, and a beautiful sensation. Eve's breath hitched as her fingers curled, legs parting as much as they could with her trousers still around her thighs. Villanelle's lids slid shut as she bit her lip, relishing the feeling of her inner walls clinging to her fingers. She wondered if Eve liked it fast or slow, and if she took hours to come or if she was easy to set off. She wanted to know how she sounded when she came, what she tasted like, if she was type to pull hair and scratch backs – she wanted to know everything. _Everything_.

It was a good thing that she was a tactile learner. She smirked and removed her fingers, loving the soft whine that Eve gave at the loss of contact.

“Why --”

Villanelle didn't let her finish her thought, kissing her deep for a brief second before pulling away. Without Villanelle's body pressed to hers, Eve had to compensate by bracing her hands back on the counter. Eve's eyes were wide, and went wider still as Villanelle slid a hand down her chest as she started to sink down before her. She slowly dropped to her knees, silently demanding eye contact so she could watch the range of emotions pass over that gorgeous face as she realized that Villanelle intended to go down on her.

“Oh – fuck -”

“I'm taking what I want. What I want is for you to come for me.”

She dragged Eve's panties down, then took the trousers with them. Eve stepped out of them almost mechanically, and yelped when Villanelle _picked up_ one of her legs to rest on her shoulder. She licked her lips and stared up at her for a moment before looking down. She was so overwhelmed for a moment by the sight that she had to close her eyes and take a deep breath, head turning to kiss the thigh on her shoulder, fingers gripping her hard. She had dreamt of this moment so many times before – so many nights she had imagined what she looked like spread open for her, whimpering for her touch – so many night she'd fucked herself imagining the noises she would make and the way she would taste. Every sense was devoted to the moment, taking in every bit.

“So fucking pretty.”

“It – it is?”

Eve's question almost saddened her – but she had no time to console her. She was too eager to plunge into her, to taste her. Villanelle was _actually_ salivating at the idea, hungry beyond comprehension for her. She nuzzled her nose against her inner thigh and then gave a smirk, opening her eyes to look back up as she dragged her tongue along it, pulling a wet trail to her labia. Eve gasped, one hand moving to her head, resting there with a firmness that gave her pause. If Eve didn't want this, she would pull away and respect it, even if it would cause her immeasurable sadness. She licked her lips, looking up at her as Eve once again made eye contact, and grinning as Eve groaned.

“This – this is what you want? Really?”

“I promise you, I really, really want your pussy in my face.”

“Jesus christ.”

Villanelle could _feel_ her knee buckling a little, Eve forced to re-steady herself on the counter. She shifted to spread a little wider, and Villanelle took it as an invitation – she closed the distance, tongue plunging into her folds. She moaned involuntarily at the taste, the smell – there was no describing it. It was _Eve_ , heavy and spectacular, coating her tongue and lips and chin as she pressed in harder, tongue seeking out her clit with determination. It was a simple task, especially since Eve had wrapped her fingers around Villanelle's ponytail, shifting her hips to guide her to it. The action was so ridiculously sexy that Villanelle moaned against her again, making Eve gasp in turn.

She ran her tongue over it only once before latching her lips to the sensitive little bundle of nerves, delighting in how Eve cried out and nearly lost balance again. It was a joy to unbalance her so – physically and mentally. She worked her with her tongue, sucked and stroked, wanting more, wanting her to flood her with her arousal. She could barely breathe, so focused on drawing out every little noise she could, Eve's hand tight and holding her in place. The hand that wasn't holding up Eve's legs was pushed between her own legs, hastily shoving past the flowy black fabric of her dress to get to herself. She didn't bother delving into her panties, knowing her own body – just a little light rubbing on the outside would do it, already hypersensitive. She wanted to drown in Eve, to forget every past hurt and spend the rest of her days between Eve's legs. She wanted to reach her own orgasm with her senses enveloped by Eve. Her hips rocked against Villanelle's mouth, and the moaning was constant and raising in volume.

“Villanelle, I – oh, _fuck_ \--”

Her name on Eve's lips shorted out any last logic center in her mind. Her fingers pressed against her clit through the soaked fabric of her panties and she trembled as she came. She abandoned herself as she rode it out on nothing but the feeling of Eve on her, around her, hips rocking uselessly as she brought her hand up. She slid her fingers back into Eve as she lavished attention on her clit, thrusting them, curling them, massaging her, doing everything in her power to make Eve orgasm. She _needed_ it.

“Oh fuck -fuck – Villanelle – _fuck!”_

Such a filthy mouth – Villanelle opened her eyes and looked up just in time to see a sight she had wanted since the first time she met her. Eve's face, contorted in pleasure, mouth agape as she came explosively. She could feel it in her whole body, Villanelle could tell. She continued to work her over, practically purring against her at the sight and the sound. She would do it for hours if Eve could handle it, make her come again and again, until she was too weak to hold herself up and needed Villanelle to carry her to bed to continue. Her post-coital mind was filled with visions of cleaning her up, holding her, waking beside her in the morning, spending more time with her than she had ever been allowed –

She felt her hair being tugged away – Eve stared down at her, expression unreadable.

Villanelle pulled her fingers away and leaned back on her heels as Eve let her go, looking up at her. She carefully removed Eve's leg from over her shoulder, but not before placing a wet kiss to her thigh.

“Holy shit. I -”

Her eyes were filled with tears as she looked down to Villanelle, whose brows furrowed in confusion.

“That good?”

She offered a smug grin, not alluding to how alarmed she felt at the tears.

“Jackass.” Eve gave a little smile, leaning back and lifting her head to stare at the ceiling, “... yes.”

Villanelle watched her carefully, wanting to move in closer to hug her bare legs, to cling to her, to let her hair down and for Eve to stroke it and reassure her that the tears only meant that she was overwhelmed with pleasure. But she was paralyzed, sitting on her heels and staring up at her like a parishioner staring at a statue of Christ, waiting for answers. She brought her other hand to her face to wipe away the mess that had been made of her, giving a fond little smile at the taste (and the _volume_ , goodness). She bit her lip a little as she saw Eve reach over to grab some paper towels to clean herself – it brought her to her feet.

“Let me. I have to wash up anyway.”

“You don't have to.”

“I know.”

The afterglow had settled into something considerably less pleasant and Villanelle hated it. Eve's demeanor had shifted, and she wanted it back – she wanted _her_ back. She wanted her name back on Eve's lips, and had to resist the urge to drop back down to try and recapture it. Running the warm water, she leaned in to wash her face to some adequate level, removing the traces of her on her chin and hands. Tearing off a few paper towels, she got them wet and returned to Eve, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and looking down at her. She waited until Eve looked up at her to bring them down and clean her, doing so deliberately slowly. Eve kept eye contact until it seemed to be too much, and then pulled away, putting distance between them, leaning down to snatch up her trousers and panties.

“There's a car waiting outside – we have to go.”

“Are you in that much of a rush?”

“Just – hurry up.”

Villanelle shut the water off and stared over at her, a bitter feeling pooling in her throat. Eve was thinking the encounter was a mistake, obviously. Villanelle was used to using others, but being used was a new sensation. Was this what it felt like to her various partners over the years?

No – they didn't love her like she loved Eve. No one ever had.

Villanelle checked herself in the mirror, carefully fixing her ponytail. She smirked a little as she realized her makeup had stayed mostly on – a testament to the quality she insisted on. Eve led her out and opened the door for her, silent. She glanced back, noticing the door still ajar.

“Eve, you left your door open.”

“.. Yeah.”

The walk to the car was stolen glances, so awkward that Villanelle felt sick to her stomach. When they filed into the car they met eyes again, and Villanelle could only look at her briefly. She was questioning everything. Of course Eve would feel awkward, wouldn't she? She cheated on her stupid husband. She cheated on her husband and was probably reeling at how _good_ it was. She bet anything that Niko never made Eve come. He probably rolled off of her and went to sleep before she could finish every time and didn't give her the attention she needed. Villanelle drew in a heavy breath through her nose and exhaled more slowly to quell her disgust – and her tears. She was stronger than this. She was stronger than her hatred for Niko, stronger than Eve's disdain or shame or whatever it was she was feeling.

Twenty minutes passed.

Eve wouldn't break the silence. It didn't matter; Villanelle would do it for her.

“My makeup didn't budge. Even the lipstick. Good stuff.”

Eve just made a noise in her throat, staring at the back of the driver's head.

“You can talk to me, you know.”

She saw Eve's eyes roll.

“You're going to **have** to talk to me. I'm not going to shut up. I'm good at not shutting up, Eve. I'm good at a lot of things. But you know that.”

Eve's arms folded over her chest, and she turned her head to stare out the window.

“Driver, where are we going?”

“The Forest of Dean, ma'am. It's about another two and a half hours off with the route we're on.”

“Hear that, Eve? Two and a half hours. That's a long time to give the silent treatment to someone who you just f --”

“Shut up.” Eve snapped, before Villanelle could say it out loud.

“I won't. Are you ashamed?”

“Yes – no. Yes and no. I don't know.”

Villanelle raised a brow.

“Because of your husband?”

“Don't talk about him right now.”

“Trust me, the last thing I want to talk about is him.”

“Then why bring him up to begin with? I'm perfectly happy to make this trip in silence, Villanelle.”

“Because I want to talk about what happened. And I have about two and a half hours where you're stuck in a car with me.”

She reached a hand over, stupidly, seeking out her hand. Eve shrugged her away.

“Well, I don't want to talk about it.”

“We're going to talk. You can't just pretend -”

“ _Yes_ , I can. You'd be amazed at the things I can pretend didn't happen.”

“I don't want you to. Please don't.”

Eve looked at her again, face softening at Villanelle's soft plea. It was tearing her up inside to think that Eve could be so cruel. A knife to the gut was one thing; to be used and tossed away so quickly would leave a scar far deeper. If she wasn't so sure that Eve cared about her it would hurt less, but as it was now she felt like she was being choked. Maybe if she could get Eve to push her away, she could accept it without feeling like she was dying. She didn't want Eve not to care about her, though, so like a fool she readied herself to beg.

“Villanelle, I can't do this.”

“Then maybe I should throw myself out of this car.”

“Don't be so dramatic.”

“Then _talk to me._ ”

“Are you always so needy?”

“Only when I'm in love.”

“You aren't in love with me.”

“Don't tell me what I feel. Just because you can't admit your own feelings doesn't mean mine aren't real.”

“... Sorry.”

The apology was surprising. Eve hadn't even apologized for stabbing her; she had refused, in fact. So alarming was the apology that Villanelle spent the next few minutes mulling it over in her mind, confused, uncertain about the horrible miasma of feeling in the depths of her chest. It was all so intense, so _raw_ that it made her stomach turn. She placed a hand on it, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

“We shouldn't have done that.” Eve was the one to break the silence this time.

“I don't regret it.”

“Of course you don't.”

“I don't think you do either.”

“I didn't say I did... just that we shouldn't have. I should have – I should have said no.”

“Did you want to say no, Eve? You didn't, and I didn't force you. You told me to take what I wanted. You knew what I wanted. I gave you every chance to stop. I wouldn't do that to anyone. Not ever.”

“You had... no. You didn't force me. Not at all. I... definitely wanted it too. Fuck, I _really_ did.”

“It's nothing to be ashamed of, Eve.”

“It is, though. I don't... I don't act like myself around you. I become someone different. Someone I have no control over, who... who isn't _me_.”

“Maybe it is you, Eve. A part of you that you've been denying your whole life.”

“This isn't some coming of age story, Villanelle. I'm too old for that sort of thing – I have a life that I'm happy with. Ever since you came along, it's like I'm... possessed.”

“Are you really happy, Eve?”

“You don't have to make everything I say a challenge, Villanelle, I-”

“Eve – I'm not. Listen to me. I really want to know if you're happy with your life. I want to try to understand, if you're happy, that maybe this was all just a mistake. Because if you're happy with how things are for you, then I can let you go.”

“Let me go?”

“I can't leave you knowing that you're unhappy. I won't be able to leave you alone. I can't let you go if I think I can make you happier than he can.”

If Eve was happy, Villanelle could justify leaving her. It wasn't her being abandoned again if she was the one leaving. It wasn't her being left behind if she was the one in control, if _she_ was the one who made the decision. Surely, Eve knew that. Surely, she understood the pain that Villanelle felt. How couldn't she? She could feel it coming off of herself in waves; surely they were almost tangible, given their connection. Eve knew her, and she knew Eve. Eve confused her sometimes, but they were the same; not even two sides of the same coin. They were wound around one another so tightly that it hurt.

Eve fell quiet, and the pain grew heavier. Some time passed as Eve stared out the window, no doubt hoping the car ride would end already so that she wasn't trapped there with Villanelle, having this conversation. Villanelle's throat was tight, and she had to take a heavy, shaky breath to still herself.

“I can't tell you I'm happy.”

The knot binding her throat closed loosened.

“But I can't tell you I'm unhappy.”

A new knot was formed.

“That doesn't make any sense. You either are or you aren't.” Villanelle managed, shaking her head.

“I don't know what I feel, Villanelle, and I'm not lying. I have to try to save my marriage. I owe it to Niko to at least try. But I – I can't picture not... not knowing where you are. I can't picture not constantly looking for you when you aren't close by, or seeing you in places you aren't. It's – it's... It's fucking absurd.” Eve gave a bitter chuckle, running her hands back over her curls. “It doesn't help that you're always leaving me messages, you know.”

Villanelle gave a little smile, looking to her. Eve watched her from the corner of her eye, a smirk on her lips.

“It's the same for me, you know. I always want you to find me. I didn't ask for you to come after me, but you did. You acted so strange and it made me so uncomfortable at first.”

“ _I_ made _you_ uncomfortable? That's rich coming from a literal assassin.”

“Exactly. I'm an assassin. A very, very good one. People who know I'm an assassin either fear me or try to get me to do what they say – but _you_ tried to talk to me. You're always looking for me, and finding me. You always come to me, or wait for me, and I don't know what you want from me. And now I'm in love with you, and it's your fucking fault. And _don't_ say again that I'm not in love with you. I know what it feels like.”

“... How does it feel, for you?”

“Horrible and amazing.”

“You're going to have to elaborate.”

Villanelle rolled her eyes. For someone so astute, Eve really didn't have a clue about some things, did she?

“I think about you all the time. I think about what you're wearing, and what you're doing, and who you're doing it with. I think about what friends you have. I think about what you eat before you work, and what shampoo you use, and what happened in your family. I think about your eyes, and your mouth. I think about what you have for breakfast... I just want to know everything.”

“.. That's a little cruel, don't you think? Using my own words against me?”

“It would be if it wasn't true. What's cruel is you using them to begin with, and then almost killing me, and then coming to find me again to do things for you. What's horrible is that no matter what I try to do, no matter how I try to move away from you, I keep being pulled back in. You asked me what I wanted once, and I told you I wanted to be normal... and then you stabbed me.”

“You killed my best friend. I wanted to hurt you.”

The words were bitter. Villanelle understood that.

“I'm sorry.”

“No you aren't. You aren't sorry that you killed him, and I'm not sorry that I stabbed you.”

“... Yeah.”

Villanelle could accept that.

“I am.. sorry that you almost died, if that makes sense, though.”

“And I'm sorry that you were hurt by him dying.”

She didn't justify the murder of Bill, and Eve didn't try to justify stabbing her. They were things that were done and over with, done to hurt the other. Eve had gotten her revenge and was now using her to help with her job; Villanelle had gotten to fuck her in the home she shared with her husband. Maybe the ends justified the means, in this case... or maybe Villanelle didn't really understand that idiom. Either way, it was over and done with. And Eve would not commit to being happy or unhappy for Villanelle to be released from her own feelings. She was trapped by her, the willing prisoner of a woman who made her feel both like she was dying and more alive than she had ever really been.

“I like the scar, you know. The one you gave me.”

“You like it?”

“I do. It always reminds me of you. A lot of the time I'll lay in bed and just.. stroke it with my fingers...”

“Villanelle, if you're going to say something inappropriate, I'm really not in the mood.”

“I'm not being a perv. God, I say something innocent for once and you make me feel bad.”

“You kinda set the precedent that you're a perv when it comes to me.”

“It's hard not to be, you're really sexy.”

Eve rolled her eyes, turning her head away, but Villanelle could see that it was to hide the satisfied, charmed smirk on her lips. Villanelle moved in a little closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. She had to get it out before she lost the nerve.

“Eve... You told me to take you. You said it over and over. It was **my** name you were saying when you came. _I'm_ the one who is always on your mind, the one you're always looking for. Maybe right now you can't... get over him, but he doesn't make you happy like I could. I'm not telling you to decide what you want to do now. I'll still be here, waiting for you to figure it out. I can't leave you now – I won't. You had the choice to tell me you were happy, even if it was a lie, and you didn't take it. So I'll be here.”

She moved back to her side of the car, and let silence settle between them.

This time, when she reached for Eve's hand, she did not pull it away.


End file.
